


the nowhere bar

by nekrateholic



Series: the nowhere bar [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Jackson-centric, M/M, markson are a thing but they're barely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/nekrateholic
Summary: The story of how Jackson found the Nowhere Bar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this... this is the drabbly intro/prologue to an au that i have yet to write (but am excited for)  
> i've found out bars named that actually exist, but the idea for this (as well as the title), like so many of the things i write, comes from a five for fighting song. surprise, surprise it's called "nowhere bar".

“So how did you and Jackson get together again?” Bambam asks, and Yugyeom groans, as he has been doing every time Bambam has asked for the past three years. Meaning - approximately once a month. At this point, Yugyeom is convinced Bambam is doing it just to make his life hell.

“You know the story better than I do.” Mark says, and smiles, and he might play tough and impassive but everyone knows he’ll end up telling it, because he loves to - it’s the worst kept secret in the universe. 

“Humour me.” Bambam insists and Yugyeom groans again because Mark’s smile is getting wider and because Jackson has just come back from the food run and - if the story was only a possibility two seconds again, it’s definitely happening now. Jackson loves telling it even more than Mark does.  _ That’s _ not a secret to anyone.

“Oh!” Jackson grins, dropping the plastic bags in Bambam’s lap, “We’re telling the story again?”

“No,” Yugyeom finally speaks up, “No, we’re not, it was cute the first three million times. We get it, you’re soulmates or whatever, now please stop.”

“You are rude and a party pooper.” Jackson states, sulking. Like most Jackson-moods, it passes pretty quickly. “You know, I think I actually dreamed of him before we met.”

Mark looks up at this, curious. “You’ve never told me that.”

“I didn’t think of it much at the time, but you did look a bit familiar when we first met. And I hadn’t seen you before that”

“Well, what did you dream of?” Mark asks, with an eyebrow raised so high Yugyeom throws a pen at him. 

“Dude,” Jackson laughs, “that was five years ago, I barely even remember dreaming of you, let alone what.” He considers it for a second, then adds, “It was probably something hot though.”

Yugyeom throws a pen at him, too.

*

_ [five years earlier] _

“Shit. Shit,  _ shitshitshit. _ ” Jackson wants to throw his phone away, he really does - maybe drop it and step on it a few times, just in case.

He doesn’t. It  _ would  _ mean no more communication with the fucking bank demanding he pays his ten million bills or else (that’s not really what the email said, although it was a close thing) but it would also mean no more communication with his mother. And that’s - that’s one of the only things keeping his sanity intact right now.

What certainly  _ isn’t _ is his bank account. Way below zero and going lower still - studying abroad on his own terms without bothering his parents for money had been a great, brave idea back home. Now, faced with the reality of university and two part time jobs that barely cover his living expenses - it’s really, really not so great. 

Jackson doesn’t want to go home - it would mean every promise he ever made - to his parents, to his friends, to  _ himself _ \- is a lie. And yet, the city, the whole being on his own thing - it’s crushing him harder and harder each day. A part of him wants to just give up and go home so bad, there are days he loses the little sleep he has time for over it..

*

There’s a bar tucked in a corner of the street Jackson crosses everyday on his way back from work. It’s the first time he notices it, even though he’s walked this path for the last four months. The name sounds cool and, honestly, alcohol suits his life right now. He figures the seven dollars in his pocket won’t pay his tuition - might as well have a beer before he decides on the best way to end his dreams.

And so, Jackson enters the Nowhere Bar.

*

The second the door closes behind him, Jackson suddenly feels - cut off. The street outside isn’t a busy one, and it makes sense outside noise wouldn’t come through - it is a bar, after all - bar walls are rarely that thin. Still, Jackson feels like if he opens the door again the familiar street won’t be there -  _ nothing _ will. It’s ridiculous. He forces himself not to try.

The bar looks how Jackson imagines bars usually look like - he hasn’t had a lot of time to go to those - a single room, bigger than a normal living room that still felt small, somehow. A few tables scattered around the place and a bar lining the wall opposite the front door.

The music is low and there a total of three people inside - a man drinking alone on one of the tables, a bored looking waiter playing on his phone in the corner and the bartender. The entire place is eerily calm and Jackson has never been in a bar, yes, but somehow he knows what he stepped into isn’t a regular one. 

The bartender is wiping glasses, and he smiles at Jackson - a wide, happy smile - like Jackson is a friend he hasn’t seen in a long time, not just another customer. 

Something in him makes Jackson think of the fairy tales his mother used to read him as a child.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender asks as Jackson tries to decide where to sit. The waiter looks at him, expression unreadable, and Jackson subtly moves to sit at bar, choosing the stool farthest from him.

“Um. A beer?” He’s not entirely sure how alcohol prices work, but his seven dollars probably can’t cover anything above. He sighs.

The bartender nods at him but doesn’t give him a bottle - instead he takes one of the glasses he was just wiping and gets him something on tap instead - at least that’s what Jackson thinks it is. It’s fascinating to see it in real life - he read an article about beer when he was bored, once. Back when he had time to be bored.

Jackson’s never been to a bar before, yes, but he has had beer. He knows how it looks. And the thing in his glass is purple. Not bright purple - but purple enough to be noticeable. “I don’t think beer’s supposed to be purple?” Jackson says, and he tries to be polite, he really does, but by the way the bartender laughs at him, the doubt shows in his voice.

“We brew our own beer here. It has a special ingredient. Don’t worry,” he adds when Jackson still looks uncertain. “If you don’t like it, I’ll give you a normal, bottled one, free of charge.” He doesn’t make a move to get a bottle out, however.

Jackson still isn’t convinced - but the guy looks so sure, he decides it’s worth trying, at least.

It’s the best beer Jackson has ever had the pleasure of tasting. He has a feeling the fact that all the others he’s had were cheap and store-bought has nothing to do with it. The taste of a regular beer is there, yes, but there’s something else - something that Jackson swears he knows, but at the same time is sure hasn’t ever tasted before. It tastes like a feeling, like freedom maybe - or hope - and Jackson almost laughs at himself. Here he is, alone in an almost empty bar, having purple beer and thoughts that sound like Namjoon’s pretentious mumbling the few times they’ve actually gotten drunk together. That’s possibly sadder than his bank account but somehow - somehow he doesn’t feel bad about it.

“Do I have to get you a bottle?” The bartender asks, but he’s smiling and Jackson knows it’s a lost cause.

“No,” he says, finally smiling back. “No, you don’t.”

“Great!” The bartender beams, picking up a rag and an empty glass again. He stays close to Jackson, though. “I’m Hakyeon. What brings you to our little bar?”

Jackson thinks about lying, pretending everything’s fine like he has for the past few months. He doesn’t. “Jackson. And my life is kinda shit at the moment.”

“Well, Jackson,” Hakyeon says and pushes a new glass of purple beer towards him. Jackson looks down to see his almost empty. When did this happen? “On the house.” Hakyeon says when he sees Jackson eyeing the glass warily. ”You’ve come to the right place, then. I’ve heard I’m a great listener.”

Some small part of Jackson insists he has to protest, this is not normal - telling random strangers your life story isn’t okay. That part sounds distant, however, and a bigger part of him wants him to share his misery. So he does.

He tells him about the loans and about how expensive life in the city is and how he has barely slept in a week between his jobs and the university and how he still has to maintain a happy facade for his family so they won’t worry, won’t try to help him when they’re barely make ends meet. How he hates himself for being selfish and following his dream instead of trying to help his family and at the same time hates himself for thinking all those things. 

Hakyeon listens, face void of judgement, pity - of all the things that might have made Jackson shut up. The purple beers keep coming.

By the fourth - or maybe sixth - one everything feels lighter. Brighter. There’s something like an aura around Hakyeon and it glows bright, makes Jackson feel safe, somehow. A tentative look around shows him that the bar has changed, too - there are markings on the walls that he swears weren’t there when he entered and the waiter in the corner glows too, only his glow isn’t as bright as Hakyeon’s is. When the waiter meets Jackson’s eyes, his eyes are the exact shade of purple the beer is - no irises, just purple.

The person drinking alone on one of the tables has changed too - Jackson never noticed his face before, but now his entire form is hazy around the corners, like the image of him will flicker and disappear any second now. He looks transparent.

“ _ What _ was in that beer?” Jackson demands, because none of the things he’s seeing are normal, and the least normal thing is - he doesn’t find any of it worrying at all.

“Ah,” Hakyeon says, and he’s smiling again. There’s a hint of purple in his irises, too. “You’re starting to see.”

“There’s so much purple,” Jackson says, in awe. Everything is so pretty.

“We don’t have much time, I’m afraid,” Hakyeon says, voice apologetic and - when did he turn up on this side of the bar? “Look at him,” he says again, and spins Jackson’s stool until he’s fully facing the man drinking in the corner.

“He’s transparent.” Jackson states, because the man  _ is _ transparent.

“He is,” Hakyeon agrees. “It’s because he’s not really here. You projected him there, when you came through the door.”

Jackson doesn’t understand. “I don’t understand.”

“He’s your destiny, sweetheart. He’ll help you find the way.” Hakyeon says, and the hint of purple in his eyes isn’t just a hint anymore, “You have to find him.”

Everything feels calm, warm, safe and Jackson wants to believe him, he really does - but he doesn’t. He shakes his head, “I don’t have the time - I don’t have the time for relationships, any kind of relationships, and a single person can’t magically fix everything just like that -”

“Trust me,” Hakyeon says, straight in Jackson’s ear and Jackson takes a deep breath, there’s a whisper of  _ Find him _ and that’s the last thing Jackson hears before the world goes dark.

*

Jackson meets Mark two weeks later. He stumbles into the bookstore Jackson works at, looking for Jackson’s favourite book. Jackson has the feeling that he’s seen Mark somewhere - he can’t pinpoint where, though. Maybe it was a dream? 

They get talking, Mark ends up buying the book and Jackson has the intense desire to scribble his phone number on the back of the receipt. He doesn’t.

They meet again, a few days after that, running into each other on campus - Jackson is in a hurry for his next class and Mark is, too, but he says hi and tells him he loved the book and can Jackson maybe recommend him something else?

They meet for coffee after that, and it turns out Mark is in need of a roommate, which is amazing, because Jackson really can’t handle the bills of a single apartment any longer and - things pick up from there. It takes them approximately two years to go from friends to definitely-more-than-friends but in those two years Mark helps Jackson get used to the city, helps him survive, teaches him to love it, even, to a point where Jackson doesn’t have to pretend anymore when he calls his mother.

Neither of them talk about a bar where the bartender glows and serves purple beer. Because Mark doesn’t know such a place exists - and because Jackson doesn’t, either.


End file.
